At the edge of darkness
He sets up His camp;
Until you know Jesus there
You don´t know Him at all.
There He fights the battle
For our souls
And all the hidden
Enemies
Rise up to meet Him
Certain they will win.
But they are ignorant
Lying in the dark
For years, decades
And have no idea
Who their opponent
Really is.
He is Jesus and He will be
Victorious.

To stand upon the river-bank
And snare the purple fish,
My net well cast across the stream,
Was all that I could wish.
Or lie concealed and shoot the geese
That scream and pass apace,
And pay my rent and taxes with
The profits of the chase.
Then home to peace and happiness,
With wife and children gay,
Though clothes be coarse and fare be hard,
And earned from day to day.
But now I read and read, scarce knowing
What ’tis all about,
And eager to improve my mind,
I wear my body out.

How to keep—is there ány any, is there none such, nowhere
known some, bow or brooch or braid or brace, láce, latch
or catch or key to keep
Back beauty, keep it, beauty, beauty, beauty, . . . from vanishing
away?

amazing jet stream this morning. we were sitting on the balcony, my husband and i, when the stripe going up the left was in the making. my husband said, “a cross.” i said, “two for you, and two for me.” i then told him what i meant. his cross is my cross. my cross is his. he is dealing with the aftermath of stomach cancer, and me my endlessly dry eyes. so, we each have two. and that is love´s greatness and love´s great difficulty. and it puts me in mind of Jesus, who bears all our crosses, even when we can´t see it.